


some truths (over time)

by VesperRegina



Category: Galileo (Japan TV)
Genre: F/M, New Year's Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:46:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22020517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VesperRegina/pseuds/VesperRegina
Summary: Their commonality.
Relationships: Utsumi Kaoru/Yukawa Manabu
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	some truths (over time)

[2017/2018]

She takes his hand in hers, and it's not significant at all. She's done this many times before, and this isn't even the first time out in public, in the midst of others. It shouldn't be significant, but there is his focus gone. Perhaps it's that they're wearing gloves. Perhaps it's that none can see that she's essentially dragging him along.

Perhaps it's just that it is now significant, in a way that it wasn't before.

"Why here," she'd asked, no trace of sarcasm or anything else but curiosity, as he rose from his sitting position.

"You look nice," he'd said, pointing at her kimono. She'd smiled.

"I see you decided to go with tradition as well," she'd answered.

"Yes."

He'd started down the steps and she fell into place beside him. The lights outside were few, but did excellent work at illuminating their steps. Not even here were they much alone.

"No, really," she'd said, "why did you ask to meet me here, outside this church?"

It was a bit more insistent, a bit more like her, and more fool him for trying to dodge the question.

"Revisiting old sins, I suppose you might say."

"Sins. Not regrets?"

"Both, maybe."

He'd stayed silent after that, and she'd not pressed the matter. Now, he's hoping she's forgotten it, because he has no other answers. Her hand is clasping his, gently pulling at him to follow, and that's fine.

Her attention has gone to a vendor outside the shrine. "Do you want one?" she asks of him and Yukawa shakes his head.

"Maybe later."

The line is crowded around them, all confusion, but it eventually thins until it's their turn, and when Utsumi is handed her amazake, handing over her own money, she forsakes his hand to warm hers around the container. Of course, she would like this, would be drawn to what it represents.

"It's tradition," he says. She nods.

The crowd presses up against them, and they move away, taking his attention away from where he would like it to remain: on her, her sipping the drink. They are together this year; this is new and must be noted. He's fortunate in that he doesn't miss her look of pleasure at her first sip, at least. He walks beside her as she makes her way with the crowd to the shrine, as close as he can without impeding their progress.

She says, in between sips, "Will you join me in paying your respects?"

He considers it, says, "Do you want me to?"

"It doesn't make a difference to you?"

He shrugs. "You know what I think, or at least, I think you do."

She laughs, touches him on his arm. "It doesn't matter to you. You're bound by science." She says the last word as though it is set apart; something special.

"Of course."

In the end, he holds her cup of amazake, warming his hands on it, as she says prayers. How much of it is just because it's the custom and how much of it because of belief? The reverence winds around them in the cold and the momentary silences of each person, adding their own prayers.

It is after the bells have begun to ring the new year and they've exchanged the customary greetings that she says, "Isn't truth more valuable to you than anything you could gain by experiments?"

It's an inelegant question, cluttered in illogical fallacy, but her meaning isn't lost. The concept of truth, morality over knowledge. There's probing there, in the way she says it, as though she's not quite sure she has it right. It gives him pause, but it is that -- the truth. She's not asking for analysis.

"It is to you, too."

She looks over her cup of amazake at him, her eyes wide.

He smiles at her, contented with her reaction. She smiles back and steps closer, leaning in.

"Our commonality," she says.

**Author's Note:**

> This follows from "... leave the past behind" but it's not necessary to have read that. Title from "South," by Sleeping at Last.


End file.
